


Part One: The Devil in the Pit

by HermaiaMoira



Series: Il Doctore: a Hannibal/Spartacus crossover [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Gladiators, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, Cannibalism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2227560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermaiaMoira/pseuds/HermaiaMoira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is part one of a Hannibal Ancient Rome alternate universe series called "Il Doctore." The majority of the story takes place in 75 B.C.E., near the city of Rome. Will is a wealthy senator's son. He sees a gladiator fighting in the arena, who they call "Hannibal the Cannibal" and he becomes enamored. Hannibal is a slave in this alternate universe, but he is still crafty and manipulative, so he pulls whatever strings he can to get what he wants. Spartacus is only mentioned in passing in this volume, but the story takes place in the Spartacus series' universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part One: The Devil in the Pit

**Author's Note:**

> Some helpful words:  
> Villa--a mansion in the countryside  
> Vilicus--the head slave of a household, who oversees other slaves in the house and field  
> Domus--an upper-class house in the city  
> Dominus--master  
> Familia urbana--slaves who have a higher social status than most free citizens, due to the status of the household that owns them  
> Villa rustica--a large house on a farm  
> Libertas--earned freedom  
> Sine missione--without mercy. A fight that only ends when one of the opponents is killed.

In a villa, on a vast plantation in the Roman countryside, a wealthy nobleman and Senator by the name of Servius Capanna raised his young boy in great comfort and tranquility. The boy was called Will, a noticeably foreign name that showed his father's general disdain for Roman things. Even as a high-born politician, Servius often criticized aspects of Roman culture that he found distasteful. Among these avarices, the arena games received his most earnest vitriol. He spoke of them as a great evil, never to be watched or spoken of as a fan, only to be condemned. He taught Will that wise men do not relish cruelty. Violence was to be used only by those who must fight to defend themselves or their people, but even then it was a somber necessity. To view it as entertainment was a grave sin. He explained to him that many gladiators were slaves, captured from their homes, and forced to kill or be killed while the crowd laughed and cheered at their fear and pain and death. Will nodded as his father spoke, and he understood his words.

Even so, when Will found himself in the company of other young people, they would ramble on in awe over the excitement of the games and the godlike warriors who danced upon the sands, advertising to all of Rome their athleticism and skill and the beauty and wonder of masculinity. Etchings of famous gladiators were passed around among them, and Will would sometimes sneak one into his villa and keep them hidden in the hollow of an old sweet chestnut tree in their garden. From time to time, he would look at the images and run his fingers over the ridges of the etchings, imagining what these glorious men looked like in reality, with their muscles gleaming in three dimensions, and their warrior cries piercing the sky above the arena. His first signs of emerging into adulthood were discovered in that garden, as he looked over the pictures of their powerful frames, the sinews of their bodies represented in the vaguest lines. He felt his belly twitch and his cock begin to swell for the first time beside the tree, and he learned to touch himself as discreetly as possible through the folds of his clothing while he gazed at his hidden contraband. Eventually, the need to please his father and earn his respect kept him from attempting to gain more etchings, so the ones he owned became much worn. Undoubtedly, he thought, as the years past, the men in these images were no longer fighting and were either dead or had earned their freedom somehow. He wondered about them, but he didn't dare to mention their names to anyone else for fear that his father would find out that he was following the sport and be ashamed of him.

Will's father was never ashamed of him. The boy was extraordinarily sensitive and thoughtful, with an intellectual curiosity that was a joy for Servius to help cultivate. He watched him, and never felt disappointed at how slowly his body grew over the years, but relished his expanding knowledge and emotional maturity. He never knew of his son's deeply hidden interest in gladiators, but it was no secret to him that the boy's glances would linger more over a male slave in a tunic tending to the fields, wiping the sweat from his brow and neck and stretching his sore back with his hips thrust forward, than they would over a softly curved maiden whose wraps would drape open at her breasts as she poured water into his bath. It was no matter, but Will's mother, Lydia, had died before bearing Servius another son and he feared that his family line would come to an end if Will did not take a wife for the purpose of creating heirs, even if he continued to take pleasure from men. He also noticed that Will was a very solitary and nervous person, preferring the company of the family dogs and a stack of books to that of people outside of the household. If Servius was finally able to drag him to a function or senatorial meeting, it was not unusual for him to greet someone, then reach out saying, "This is my son, Will" and find that he wasn't beside him, but wandering off by himself, snooping through empty rooms and hallways.

When Servius came down with a dreadful fever that would not break, and his physicians could not discover the cause nor the remedy as it sapped his life away from him, he brought young Will to his bedside.

"My dear boy," he said, "you are everything I could have ever wanted in a son. My only disappointment is that I could not see you as a man. I know that you will become a proud example of our family's lineage."

Will sat beside him and lay his head on his father's heaving chest. He shook with sobs.

"And your children will carry on that greatness, I'm sure of it."

Will sat up. "Father..."

Servius stopped him.

"My boy, do not fear. Marriage is a thing of politics. Find a woman who is wise and good, who will help you raise your children the way I have raised you. It does not matter if you feel physical love for her."

Will wiped the tears from his face and looked down at the floor.

"It only takes one time to plant your seed, anyhow." he said, laughing weakly. "They haven't teeth down there, I promise you."

Will sniffed a laugh.

"A woman who is a good companion and mother is a pearl," Servius told him. "Too many foolish men shuck empty oysters because they've followed the desires of their cocks. You benefit from clarity of perception, shall we say."

Will sighed.

"And your shyness will fade with age as well," Servius continued. "It won't be long before you are engaging in debates with fellow intellectuals in the forum."

"All right, father," Will promised, but his heart felt even heavier.

"I love you, boy," Servius said, placing his hand on Will's chest. "Please do not let me leave this world without you realizing how much I love you; no matter what."

"I love you too, father."

Will embraced him again, crying softly, and did not lift his head from his father's chest until it moved with breath no more.

 

The years passed, and when Will came of age, his father's fortune, land, slaves, and other property were bestowed upon him. Before his death, Servius had written to some of his very high-standing political friends, praising his son for his intelligence and potential. He had barely entered his twenties when he began to receive invitations from these friends of his father, urging him to come and meet them or attend senatorial parties and help him secure a future in politics. The sight of a new letter in the mail began to feel to Will like spotting a death-omen. He was forced to rely almost entirely on his vilicus, Octavio, to read his mail and respond for him, as well as oversee the slaves and guard soldiers. Contrary to what Servius claimed on his death-bed, Will's shyness didn't fade with age. Rather, he became even more solitary. Days would pass without anyone in the household seeing the man, aside from those who brought food to him or his dogs.

He did, however, write letters to local institutions, ludi, and government officials arguing points and offering suggestions. As one who studied law and literature, and loved the subjects with great enthusiasm, he could not resist expressing his opinions. Unfortunately, his cleverness and insight only made the people who read his letters and considered his suggestions more eager to meet the young man. It wasn't long before they came calling, without invitation.

Among these was Marcus Flos, a wealthy academic whose patron rhetoric school and library had been inundated with letters from Will in recent years. He had at first been put off by the young man's persistence, but found him remarkably well-spoken for someone of his age. He brought with him his daughter, Aeliana.

"I read your letter to my father concerning the need for universal literacy in Rome," Aeliana said.

"She agreed with you," Marcus muttered with a smirk. "I can't say I cared for your tone, but you brought up some fair points."

Aeliana's hair seemed to have no ends. The dark curls looped throughout colorful ribbons and into itself. It seemed silky, like it in itself was made of thousands of very fine ribbons. She had a classical but simple beauty, and a softness to her that Will found surprisingly approachable. In fact, she was the only reason he didn't shrug away from Flos' intrusion into his villa. The three of them walked alongside the courtyard pool together.

"Will, your father, Servius, was a great benefactor to our institutions, as I am sure you well know," Marcus said.

Will's annoyance over the uninvited guest had begun to fade upon meeting Aeliana, but he wished for Marcus to get to his point quickly.

"Yes, as I'm sure you still know, my father's inheritance continues to provide funds to your academic research," he answered.

"Quite right," Marcus conceded. "And we are grateful. But certain acquisitions, property, etc... Some of these acquisitions require more than just funding, they require an ear in the senate. I shudder to make academia a political matter, but I'm afraid that is what it has come to."

"I do not see how I can help you with that problem. I am not a senator."

"Due to your father's status and the friends he left behind, it is no secret that you already have a seat with your name etched on it."

"I have no interest in claiming that seat."

"Well," Marcus answered, "perhaps a word or two to the right person, on our behalf... would not go unappreciated."

"I'll do what I can," Will said.

"Gratitude. Your father's assistance in this regard was invaluable to the literati of Rome. I'm sure he would encourage you to do the same."

Will cringed at his manipulative attempt, and Aeliana stepped in to ease the tension.

"Do you have interest in the games, Will?"

His face lit up.

"Games?"

"Gladiators," Aeliana replied, "the arena."

Will had never heard a woman mention the games, and it had been years since he'd spoken of them with his boyhood acquaintances.

"I... yes. I..." he stammered for a moment and looked at Marcus, who seemed disinterested in the subject but not in any way offended. "I have never been, to be honest."

"Oh," Aeliana said, "if we are being honest, neither have I! I only bring it up because Senator Porcius spends most of his free time in the arena."

"I know of Senator Porcius. My father did not care for him."

"He is an idiot gambler and squanderer," Marcus interjected. "But he has many friends."

"My father's words on the man, as well," Will said.

"Senator Porcius cannot stay away from the games, nor can he resist placing bets," Marcus explained. "He has promised a lanista, Fredo Ligare, a sizable investment in order to cover his bad habits. A promise he can no longer afford to honor. If someone were to take over his investment, free him from his obligation..."

"That's where I come in," Will said through gritted teeth.

"Perhaps the money could come from your father's fund, placing you under no further burden," Aeliana suggested. "And, you will gain an investment in a prominent ludus, which may or may not be valuable to you."

Will looked out in the garden and stared at the chestnut tree.

"I suppose, though, since you do not follow the games..." she said.

"I may have to take a look for myself," he interrupted.

"Wonderful!" Aeliana said. Marcus smiled at her proudly. His daughter had a way with people who he found difficult.

Aeliana touched Will on the arm and he looked startled at her familiarity, but not altogether put off by it.

"I know Porcius' daughter, Rufina," Aeliana said. "I cannot say we are... close. But she loves the games as much as her father, and is always looking for someone to accompany her when he is unable to attend himself."

Will felt goose bumps shoot up from where her hand was placed. Was this an invitation? Not to a dreaded party, but to a game. A game in the arena where the gladiators he dreamt of as a boy could finally be witnessed in the flesh!

"Would you like to come with us tomorrow? Observe Fredo's gladiators for yourself?"

"I think..." Will stammered, "that could be doable."

 

Upon arriving at the amphitheater, Will found himself wary to enter. His father's inheritance invested in this? One of the things he considered most loathsome in the world? Excitement and anxiety caused his chest to hurt. Then he heard Aeliana's voice call out his name.

"Will!"

He turned to face her direction, near the entrance to the upper-class seating area. She was standing next to a pretty young woman with fiery red curls and an eyebrow raised at Will. He approached them.

"Rufina, this is Will Capanna, son of Senator Servius Capanna. Will, this is Rufina Porcius, daughter of Senator Cassius Porcius."

Rufina offered a raised hand and Will looked at it for an awkward moment before kissing it. Rufina seemed amused.

"Aeliana tells me that you have not been to a gladiator match before."

"This is true," Will replied. He didn't care for the look perpetually planted on Rufina's face. She seemed to be barely containing a laugh, at a joke only she was in on.

"It isn't for everyone," she warned. Those from villas out in... The countryside... they often find themselves appalled by the spectacle of true combat."

"I can appreciate a spectacle," he replied.

"Good, because are you aware of who fights in the primus today?"

"I am not," Will answered.

"Hannibal," Rufina told him with a nasty grin. When he didn't respond, she said, "Hannibal the Cannibal? You've heard of him, haven't you?"

Will cleared his throat and found himself looking past Rufina, as he often did with people who he found abrasive.

"I confess that I am not familiar with the names of gladiators," Aeliana said, trying to spare Will.

"Well," Rufina breathed. She looked over at Aeliana. "Come, let's have a seat and we will speak further."

They found their seating in a private loft directly above the fighting area.

"My father reserves this balcony," Rufina bragged. "He is here often."

"Yes, so I've heard," Will muttered.

Rufina shot him a glare.

"So tell us more about this Hannibal the Cannibal," Aeliana interrupted.

"That is the man," she said, pointing up to a large tapestry hanging along the wall of the arena, etched with the likeness of a very intimidating man. He clutched two swords, which were plunged into the ground, his face was smeared with blood, and his teeth were bared in a cruel snarl."

Will felt a thrill at seeing the classic style of gladiator depiction art that he had come to know very well as a boy. And to see the real gladiator! His spirits instantly lifted.

"He is most famous for his unusual victory-ritual."

"I prompt you further, against my better instincts," Will replied, laughing and glancing at Rufina. She looked thrilled by the promise of sensationalized violence, so far from her own coddled existence.

"He eats them," She said.

Will and Aeliana were silent for a moment.

"Eats them?" Will asked. "You mean that he bites them in battle?"

"No, I mean that he eats them. He removes their organs and devours them, raw, in front of the spectators."

Will's face paled. He looked up at the etching of Hannibal once more. He could now see that the smear of blood on his face was emerging from his mouth, and his bared teeth were covered in the red stain. His fangs were brutal and the madness in his eyes suddenly seemed very real to him.

"Horrifying!" Aeliana said. "It's a wonder they allow him to do such a thing!"

"Is it?" Rufina asked. She gestured at the excited crowd. Some were wearing false wooden fangs, some with the area around their mouths painted red. They held haunches of meat from the vendors, waiting eagerly to bite into them as soon as Hannibal's victory cued them to do so. A little girl perched on her father's shoulders was jokingly gnawing his hand as he laughed and called out "ow, my little cannibal, spare me a finger or two!"

Rufina's sharp laugh reached Will's ears.

"I warned him, the arena is not for lily-skinned country boys who lounge at the poolside all day," she said to Aeliana.

He forced a chuckle and a grin.

"Rufina, you promised a spectacle, and that is precisely what I mean to enjoy today."

"Good news! I will call out to Hannibal and inform him to offer you a mouthful!"

Will laughed, but the thought of human organs, raw and tasting of coppery, salty blood, made him feel sick. He pushed the thought away and wracked his mind for an excuse to leave his seat just before Hannibal's ritual. He could think of none that would convince Rufina, who was already eyeing him with a sadistic gleam. Any sign of weakness at this time would send her into a fit of giggles and mockery. No, he must bear it.

The announcer stood again and addressed the crowd, which quickly fell to silence as they knew what was about to be said.

"And now, the primus! From the deserts of the Near-East, a nomadic warrior unmatched with the blade: Khalif the Sand-Dragon!"

The loud cheering brought an emerging headache to Will's attention. He closed his eyes for a moment, but then joined his companions in observing the gladiator. He had an olive complexion, beautiful long black hair, and was dressed in exotic garb that suggested a foreign land. He remembered reading in his books of the people who live in the hot blowing sand beneath a dangerously burning sun, and how they would dress in light-colored draping linens that covered every inch of skin for protection from the elements, and billowed to keep their bodies cool and wick away sweat. This man wore barely more than a leopard-spotted loin cloth and leather etched harness surrounding and drawing attention to his impeccably toned torso and chest. The crowd seemed to love his inexplicable costume.

"To fight him, the devil from the farthest mountains of northern Siberia, where no civilized man dares to tread: Hannibal... the Cannibal!"

The crowd erupted into madness. People rose from their seats to scream down at the man emerging from the underworks. They seemed to hate him, and at the same time, adore him for making them hate him so strongly, so pleasurably. Some cried out to Khalif to steal the devil's fangs, while others asked him which parts of him tasted best.

Will leaned forward to look at the infamous creature.

The man who walked slowly out into the open was not what he expected. He was tall, but no giant. He had golden brown hair that was swept up at the sides into a small ponytail. Hard leather wrapped around his waist to protect his gut, but his chest, covered in soft hair, was left bare. He had fine sculptural features, with high cheekbones and a natural smile that played at his lips. Will would actually describe him as quite handsome, if he had not known that he feasted on the organs of his enemies in front of screaming fans. Hannibal looked around at the crowd and grinned to show his teeth, which caused Will to lean forward even more. The top row of his teeth was flat across, making his canines protrude a bit, but they were hardly fangs. Will asked himself if he was disappointed, but he couldn't say that was true. There was something far more interesting to him about a distinguished-looking gentleman with a devil's disposition.

The fight began and the two gladiators appeared quite evenly matched. They sparred for what felt like hours to Will, each nearly vanquishing his enemy at several points. The fans were screaming themselves hoarse, but Will was silent. This is what he had dreamed of, all those years ago, when he was stroking his young cock in his hidden place in the garden, imagining two embodiments of masculine beauty and strength engaging each other in brutality and force. Even now, he felt himself stirring beneath the liberal folds of his clothing. He spread his legs a bit as he sat, perched at the edge of the chair, thankful for the looseness of the garments he wore. If he came any further forward in his seat he would undoubtedly lose his balance and topple off. Once he realized that it was little more than his bent legs that supported him, but he didn't mind. His legs were aching, his cock was hard, his bottom lip was nearly bloody from being chewed, and the muscles in his neck were strained and tight, but he could barely notice all of that for more than a second between near-kills in the pit below. He was in paradise.

It was true that the gladiators were evenly matched, with one exception. Khalif was a man, and men grow tired after intense fighting and scores of minor injuries. Hannibal did not seem to grow tired. He did not slow down and he barely seemed to react to his opponent's strikes. It was only a matter of time, and Will was the first to notice this. He knew who would win far in advance from the outcome. When the Sand-Dragon took but a second to stagger from fatigue and shortness of breath, he was cut down with a long gash across his chest. He fell to the ground, desperately pressing his wounds to restrict bleeding. Hannibal kicked away his sword. Looking up at him, Khalif began to shake, perhaps from the pain of his wound or perhaps from sheer terror of the man's reputation. He signaled his surrender to the editor and to his opponent, but the look on his face bore the truth that emerged from Rufina's mouth next.

"They will not spare him; they know what we have come to see. The editor is not foolish enough to deny the crowd what they were promised."

Will swallowed and looked longingly at the editor. At this point, even an execution seemed preferable to watching a man be eaten alive. To his horror, the editor stepped forward and pointed his thumb downward. The audience roared and everyone stood, pushing and struggling for a better view. Hannibal smiled and then dropped down upon his opponent. At this point, the crowd suddenly became silent, and Will wished to the gods they hadn't, for now he could hear the anguished screams of Khalif the Sand-Dragon. Hannibal held him down while he pulled out a small knife from his waist and slit the fallen gladiator from chest to navel. Khalif could not even struggle at this point as his body was flayed open. His screams drowned into gurgling blood in his throat. Will could not look away, as much as he wished he could. Hannibal dug into the man's organs, pulling them out and weighing them in his hands as his victims still twitched with spasms. He chose his heart and lifted it up to show it to the crowd. They cheered and chanted, "Bite, bite, bite!"

And he did. Those with meat sunk their teeth into the lamb and fowl, pretending that they too were devouring their foes. Rufina laughed and cheered. Aeliana was nowhere to be found, but Will hadn't noticed. His eyes were fixed on the ferocious man beneath him, consuming human flesh with the enthusiasm of a man starved for weeks.

When Will stood after the events were over and the people were filing out of the amphitheater, he nearly lost his balance from lightheadedness. Rufina was already beginning to walk away, so he followed quickly.

"How did you like it?" Rufina asked.

"Oh," Will answered breathlessly, "it was incredible!"

"Are you an addict yet?"

"I believe I am." He smiled and fanned his robe against his chest to cool himself.

"Ah, but you know what I realized, when I saw Hannibal eat that poor dragon's heart?" Rufina asked.

"What's that?"  The image of the blood pouring out of the heart and down Hannibal's chin and neck as he bit into it came back into his mind suddenly.

"I'm hungry! Let's get something to eat!" She clapped Will on the back, and suddenly Will leaned against the wall and vomited on the ground.

They found Aeliana outside waiting for them. She stood with her hands across her chest, clasping each arm and looking downward. She said nothing to Will but came along when Rufina insisted that they eat at a nearby place that catered to arena spectators of means.

"I do not partake of the flesh, unlike today's entertainer," Rufina said. "But I have heard the lamb is well-cooked here, should you be so inclined."

But when Will sat at the table, he merely picked at the flatbread, figs, olives, and cheese that Rufina had ordered. She laughed at him, as he feared she would.

"I am not very hungry today," he said.

"Not even after emptying your stomach in the amphitheater?"

Will blushed.

"What's that?" Aeliana asked, and Will's embarrassment grew as Rufina explained to her how he had vomited. He looked up at her, expecting to see disgust, but instead Aeliana smiled at him warmly and reached out across the table to put her hand on his.

"I guess the games aren't a pastime that suits you," Rufina said, popping an olive into her mouth.

"No," Will answered. He looked into Aeliana's eyes and found approval there. "I guess they aren't."

"Rufina," Aeliana said, "might we be able to meet with your father later? Will would like to have words with him. Words that I believe he would be happy to hear."

"Is that so?" Rufina replied. "We can venture to my home on Palatine Hill."

The Domus Porcius was smaller than Will's own villa, but many times more opulent. The furnishings and numerous slaves suggested wealth that, according to Marcus, the senator didn't really have. It rang to Will of desperation. He could understand why Marcus and Aeliana believed his debt-purchase would hold great sway over Cassius.

"Father, you have guests," Rufina called nonchalantly as she dropped herself on a lounge in the atrium. "Friends I have come back with from the arena."

"You were at the arena?" Cassius called back. His voice was nervous.

"Of course," she replied. Cassius entered the room and crossed over to her without greeting Aeliana or Will. He leaned forward and whispered to her.

"Did you encounter Fredo?"

Rufina rolled her eyes.

"No, father, we took the lower loft."

Cassius sighed and looked back at his guests.

"I beg your pardon, have we met?"

"Good day, Senator, I am Aeliana Flos, daughter of Marcus Flos."

"I do not know of him," Cassius said abruptly. He looked at Will, whose eyes were wandering around the room. Cassius seemed irritated by his lack of interest in him, while in his own house.

"My companion is Will Capanna, son of the late Senator Servius Capanna," Aeliana said. Cassius took on a more welcoming disposition.

"You are Servius' son?"

"Yes," Will answered. "You remember him?"

"Why yes, he was constantly at my throat in the senate decrying the wickedness of gladiatorial games."

Will chuckled.

"Ah, yes, my father was no fan of the arena."

"Forgive me," Cassius apologized, "I did not mean to sound critical. It's just, Rufina saying you were at the games yourself..."

"Mm, that's quite all right," Will answered. He began to wander away, looking over the books on Cassius' shelves.

"That is why we are here today, Senator," Aeliana spoke for him. "We understand you have pledged investment to Fredo Ligare's ludus."

Cassius cleared his throat and ordered a slave girl to pour him a glass of wine.

"Yes, his gladiators... are the best in all of Rome."

"You want to rid yourself of this investment," Will stated bluntly.

Cassius scowled at him and Rufina sat up on her lounge.

"Rufina, go speak to your tutor."

She slowly left the room, staring at Will with no small amount of contempt.

"Sorry, I chose to move this conversation along," Will said. "I want to buy your investment."

Aeliana smiled at Cassius who was eyeing Will's actions with suspicion. He had begun to pull out books and flip through them, barely making eye contact with the Senator.

"Will has taken interest in the games," she said. "We could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"How so?" Cassius asked.

"My father needs assistance expanding his library, and acquiring property for another rhetor, and perhaps a center for philosophy. That requires senatorial reach."

"Is that all?" Cassius exclaimed, looking at Will in wonder.

"That is all," Will answered, slapping the book shut and putting it back on the shelf. "I'll buy the investment and you will help Marcus Flos, and Fredo Ligare will trouble you no more."

"Well!" Cassius gulped his wine. He looked quite relieved. "I'd say that we have an agreement."

The sky began to darken as Will and Aeliana rode in the carriage, and the early evening breeze was growing a bit chilly. Will noticed Aeliana draping a scarf around her shoulders and he stood to close the ceiling flap. When he glanced down again he noticed that she was looking at him, observing where his garments fell a bit loose on his body and revealed the profile of his stomach and chest. He sat down and met her eyes, but grew nervous and looked away just as quickly. The silence between them made him even more uncomfortable and fidgety.

"We are approaching my house," Aeliana said. Her voice had deepened, yet softened a bit. Will thumped on the carriage wall and the driver slowed to a halt.

Aeliana stood and Will helped her climb out of the carriage. As she took his hand and delicately stepped down into the street, she smiled at him with warmth that he found hopeful. An odd question materialized in his mind: _How do you feel about children?_ But he kissed her hand and bid her goodnight.

That night, Will dreamed. He found himself in the middle of the arena. He realized he was naked, and looked around at the stadium, but was relieved to find the seats empty. He spread his arms out and walked, enjoying the feel of the sand on his bare feet and the warm night air on his body. There was no blood or gore staining the ground, only clean, white sand. He turned around, and suddenly realized that he was not actually alone. In front of him stood the cannibal gladiator. Will did not move. He was embarrassed of his nakedness in front of the warrior clad in leather, but could not bring his arms to cover himself. He stared into his eyes and found them startlingly interested. The gladiator's eyes traveled over the naked young man who didn't belong there, and he grinned. He rushed at Will and tackled him to his back upon the sand, pushing his arms above his head and straddling him. Will whimpered as the cannibal drew out his knife, glinting in the dream-world moonlight. He thrust the blade into Will's gut and made a short incision. Even in the dream, he could feel a sharp pain, but it manifested in a pleasurable burning sensation. A rough hand reached into the slit in Will's belly, and began to feel around inside. Will was horrified and cried out, but he could not look away from the gladiator's searching eyes and playful grin. He felt as though he were stroking him and pleasuring him from the inside of his body. Then he leaned down and plunged his teeth into his neck.

Will sat up in bed and clutched at his belly and throat. He looked around his room, streaks of early daylight coming in through the covered windows. Then he threw off his blankets and found them spotted with sticky wetness, something that hadn't happened to him since he was much younger. He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. The name was perched upon his lips and he felt it slip out in a whisper.

"Hannibal."

 

Fredo Ligare was a dapper, well-to-do man whose infamous reputation he was either unaware of, or successfully ignored. Wealth made that easy for him. In addition, no amount of respectability could replace the joy he took in his kennel of gladiators. He walked with a silver, engraved cane which he enjoyed using to point out his specimens to prospective buyers and investors, rapping the head of it on their arms, legs, chests, and stomachs, as a trainer would show a fine-bred horse. When Will called on him at his villa outside of Rome, he smiled broadly at the name of Senator Cassius Porcius. The senator's cumbersome debt had made him very pliable and Fredo was nothing if not an opportunist. It was no weight on his ego, either. He walked with Will through his large atrium, twirling the cane in his fingers.

"You are a friend of Senator Porcius?" he asked.

"We are acquainted," Will replied. "I have agreed to take over his investment in your ludus."

Fredo stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at Will in surprise.

"I see. And I assume you have the means for this venture? The payments proved... a bit hefty for Senator Porcius."

He pointed his cane at Will, a gesture the young man didn't care for.

"And don't quote me on that," Fredo demanded.

"I don't intend to make payments; I intend to give you the lump sum, immediately." He held up a note that described the transaction, and Fredo examined it.

The lanista's entire demeanor shifted, not unlike Senator Porcius' had. Will was beginning to enjoy his father's inheritance, but it wasn't improving the opinion he held of people.

"In that case, Will Capanna, I am at your service."

"Might I be able to greet one of your gladiators, in person?" Will asked.

"Of course! Nothing would please me more!" Fredo answered, and the statement was sincere. "Which of my gladiators interests you?"

"Hannibal," Will answered after a nervous pause.

"Hannibal the Cannibal?" Fredo was incredulous. "No one ever wants to meet him!"

"I do... I would like to meet him. He seems..."

"Monstrous?" Fredo asked with a laugh.

"Oh yes, very. Would you mind?"

Fredo obliged and led Will out toward his ludus.

"I'm afraid if you are eager to peek at some rabid monster in a cage you will be sorely disappointed."

"Why is that?" Will asked.

"Hannibal's performances are just that. He knows what the audience wishes to see, and he gives it to them without holding back."

"That he doesn't" Will agreed, smiling.

"But in reality, the man is quite the gentleman slave. Clever, well-spoken, very useful when pressed for advice on matters that most slaves would not understand."

"He is educated?"

"Clearly," Fredo answered as they entered the yard of the ludus. Dusk had emptied the training grounds, but the noise of chattering and laughing gladiators at supper was still emerging from the bungalow. "None of us are quite sure what exactly happened to him in his past. He spends most of his time, when he is not training, pondering over any books I will bring to him."

Will was amazed to hear this, and felt the same complete lack of disappointment that he felt when first looking at Hannibal in the arena. This was a man with a mind, forced to claw and chew his way through life, and refusing to restrain his ability to do so.

"I once found myself trapped in a legal predicament," Fredo laughed nervously, "I... won't bore you with the details."

Will grinned and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I found myself ranting to myself out here, in the ludus at daybreak, before any of the gladiators had risen. Except Hannibal, who heard me from his window, right over there."

He pointed his cane at a small rectangular barred window right above the ground. Will glanced in and noticed a soft glow emerging from it, while other windows were dark.

"He said, 'forgive me Dominus, I could not help but overhear.'" Fredo laughed. "That is Hannibal's way, 'could not help but overhear.' Always listening, that one. Anyway, he gave me some sound advice that I had not considered, and I soon found myself rid of the nasty situation."

"Legal advice from a gladiator!" Will remarked.

"Truly. He is an oddity through and through."

"How long have you had him?"

"Not long," Fredo replied. "But he has already proven himself. He has won every game, and has earned my trust as a confidant of sorts, second only to my honored doctore, Ren. In fact, Ren is getting on in years, and he has more than earned his freedom in retirement. Should he choose to retire, Hannibal may be my choice for the next doctore of this ludus."

"Wonderful!" Will said. "I am sure the doctore will be most grateful to be a free man."

"Yes, and I am honored to grant it to him for his many years of loyalty to this household. He was doctore for my father, as well."

The two entered the ludus, and the raucous came to a near-instant halt as Ren, a distinguished-looking man with gray and white hair, stood and called out to his gladiators for attention. They all came to their feet and bowed to Fredo.

"Dominus," Ren said respectfully, bowing his head, "I did not know you were paying us a visit tonight."

"A last-minute request from an honored guest." He patted Will on the back. "This is Will Capanna."

"Good evening, Magister," Ren greeted him with a bow. "How may I serve you?"

Will felt a ripple of excitement standing there, in a crowded room amongst fantastic warriors, all bowing their head to him. _Had I not been the son of a Senator_ , he thought to himself, _I would have been a lanista._

"I have merely come to see this great ludus, with my own eyes," he replied, grinning unabashedly.

"Where is Hannibal, Doctore?" Fredo asked.

"He has taken supper in his den, as is his custom, Dominus," Ren replied.

"Ah, a solitary man," Fredo said to Will. "Come, we shall have privacy, then."

Will followed Fredo down the cramped hall of the ludus bungalow. The hall was lined with barred doors for the slaves to be locked in after hours, but now they all stood open.

"Ren has two children by his wife, who is now deceased," Fredo said. "I have sent them away to a household where they can learn basic literacy, etc. Things that cannot be well-learned at a gladiator ludus. When Ren retires, he can join them and they will be in a better position to support their father in old-age."

Will was surprised at the admirable actions of Fredo. It was clear that he had strong affection for the old doctore.

As they approached Hannibal's cell, Will felt it hard to swallow. His heart began to palpitate in an uncomfortable rhythm. He had been surrounded by slaves all of his life, some of them even quite beautiful, who waited on him hand and foot, and he had been above them. This felt different. Now, he felt vulnerable and small.

"Hannibal," Fredo announced his presence, and the gladiator stood to his feet. He bowed and said "Dominus" in a splendidly deep voice touched by a foreign accent that Will could not place.

"This is Will Capanna, son of Senator Servius Capanna. He has invested in this ludus, in place of Senator Porcius. He wished to meet you, personally."

"Magister Capanna, it is an honor," Hannibal spoke with another bow in Will's direction.

"The honor is mine," Will said in a voice that was more lilting than he had intended. He had little patience or experience with introductions in the past, and now, when he actually wished to impress, he felt inadequate. He saw a faint smile twitch at the edge of Hannibal's lips and felt his own face grow warm. He prayed to the gods that a blush had not appeared on his cheeks.

"Forgive me if this is impertinent, Magister," Hannibal said. "But I noticed you have a Frankish given name. Have you ancestors from the Germanic region?"

Will looked surprised for a moment and then said, "My father admired the cultures of the North. It is as simple as that, I'm afraid." He sniffed a laugh and Hannibal nodded.

Will wished he would continue speaking, for he had nothing else to say and was feeling very awkward. Occasionally, he would accidentally let his eyes drift over the body of the gladiator, clad in the simple brown linens of a slave at leisure. He imagined his own slight frame and lesser stature pressed underneath Hannibal's weight and strength, pushing him down into the sand and having him completely at his disposal. Will cursed himself for allowing his thoughts to venture there, at this time, while he stood in front of the man himself as well as Fredo Ligare. He tried his best not to tremble as Fredo stepped closer to Hannibal, encouraging Will to do so as well.

"Do you hail from Siberia, as your introduction claims?" Will asked.

"Not quite," Hannibal explained and Will noticed that he was returning his examining gaze. The generous folds of his noble clothing hid his body, but he felt as though Hannibal could see through them. "I was born and raised amidst the Gautoi, but I traveled far before my capture, to the East among the Dian and finally to Roman territory."

Hannibal was making Will feel ignorant, something he didn't often experience before his peers, let alone a slave. "The Dian? Of China?" he asked, trying to show his ability to follow what the gladiator was saying. He didn't know who the Gautoi were, but he had read literature about the East. "I imagine your fighting technique was much influenced by your travels. Were you a warrior? A mercenary, perhaps?"

"I took part in various rebellions," he answered. "It is what led to my capture, eventually."

"Gods above, Hannibal!" Fredo scoffed. "The Magister wishes to know of your fighting, not of your tedious travels."

Will thought he saw an ephemeral snarl pass over Hannibal's face, but Fredo did not seem to notice.

"You needn't engage him in polite introductory chit-chat, my dear Capanna; he is a gladiator, not a Consul."

Will swallowed and sub-consciously wished Fredo into non-existence. But there he stood.

"Forgive me, Magister," Hannibal bowed. "To answer your question, yes, my fighting was influenced by foreign tutelage. I feel that gives me an advantage over less-experienced opponents."

"Hannibal uses maneuvers that other gladiators have never witnessed," Fredo bragged. "It takes them by surprise, fools them into thinking they know what to expect."

"Very clever," Will said.

"All warfare is based on deception," Hannibal responded, looking directly into Will's eyes. "“Engage people with what they expect; it is what they are able to discern and confirms their projections. It settles them into predictable patterns of response, occupying their minds while you wait for the extraordinary moment — that which they cannot anticipate.”

"You have read Sun Tzu!" Will said, unable to hide his astonishment.

"Of course," Hannibal answered. "Training physically is a mere fraction of combat. One must train his intellect as well, or the body will flail aimlessly."

Will could not bear it anymore. He wanted to take this man away from his dank cell, into his own villa, show him his library of well-worn books, and listen to his tales of travelling in lands he had never even heard of as he sat at his feet...

He was snapped out of his reverie by the heavy hand of Fredo clapping him on the back.

"Didn't I tell you? An educated gladiator, what a novelty!"

Hannibal looked away.

"Come again during the day, my friend," Fredo continued, ushering the reluctant Will away from Hannibal's cell, "and I will show you the grounds of the ludus and you can watch my slaves train. You will also be able to witness the fine Doctore in action."

"I would enjoy that," Will answered.

Hannibal peered out of his small window as Will left the ludus. He stared at the back of the young man's bare legs as he walked away. When he could no longer see him or hear the bragging of his dominus, he sat at the edge of his cot, eyes darting back and forth with his thoughts.

Will dreamed again that night. He was lying on the ground before the tomb of his father, immobilized. Hannibal approached, dressed in the armor of a great Chinese general. He bent down and effortlessly picked Will up, draping him over his arms so that his head lay against the man's breastplate. Will lifted his own arm to place it around Hannibal's neck, barely strong enough to clutch at him, but it was not necessary. His gladiator was strong and he knew he would not be dropped. He cast a glance back at his father's resting place, but closed his eyes and relaxed into Hannibal's arms as they walked away from it.

When Will awoke, he felt a newfound eagerness. He remembered what his father had said about taking a wife and thought he knew what he had meant. He had often heard of high-standing men who enjoyed the private company of both men and women and were not defamed for it, as long as they had heirs to pass their status onto. There was no reason he could not have everything he wanted. He thought of Aeliana, the lovely, amiable woman who could speak for him at insufferable parties and functions and walk with him out to the garden to see their children running and playing with the family dogs. Then he could return to his private study and find his personal advisor Hannibal, waiting to engage him in conversation and perhaps more...

Will climbed out of his bed and dressed himself without calling for an attendant. Today he would try to claim his future happiness.

 

The attendant to the domus of Marcus Flos answered the door, and Will was immediately escorted indoors. Marcus greeted him with enthusiasm and a generous hug. He had clearly heard from Senator Porcius already.

"I owe you much gratitude, Will," Marcus said, "This endeavor will certainly increase the literacy of Rome. Perhaps even... universally?" He winked at him.

Will laughed.

"I can't believe you mean that, Marcus."

"Ah, perhaps my daughter's words are beginning to influence me. You have certainly sparked her interest, dear boy."

Will looked at him, and Marcus noticed the young man's response.

"And has she sparked yours?" Marcus asked.

Will cleared his throat.

"I... she is certainly..." he stammered for the words.

"Aeliana, Will Capanna is here!" Marcus called out, interrupting him.

Will heard her steps coming down the hall and he rubbed the back of his neck. When she approached, her face was beaming.

"Will, what a pleasure!" she remarked and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. The informality surprised him and he turned a bit so that her lips fell instead on the corner of his mouth. She didn't seem to mind, and kept her hands on both of his arms as she looked at him. "Your generosity will not soon be forgotten."

Marcus stood nearby, looking at the two of them and smiling knowingly. It was making Will extremely uncomfortable.

"Aeliana," he said, unable to look directly at her, "I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to Senator Porcius' domus. I need to inform him that the business with Fredo Ligare is taken care of."

"Certainly," she replied, "It would be my pleasure."

Will smiled and was able to meet her eyes.

Palatine Hill was not far from the House of Flos, but the prestige of owning a domus there created an ambiance of refinement. Aeliana opened the window when they arrived in the district to enjoy the scent of fresh flowers and perfume, and Will followed her example. He had purposely worn clothing that draped open at the sides and she had noticed with a coy smile. He leaned forward and pretended to pay attention to the passing scenery, but he knew her eyes were upon him. The carriage jostled a bit as it pulled up to the House of Porcius.

"Senator Porcius is not at home," the head slave said at the door, "but his daughter would be happy to greet you if you wish."

Will waited, glancing downward and in Aeliana's direction, signaling her to take charge of the social matters.

"That would be fine," she answered.

Rufina rushed up to them as they waited in the atrium.

"You will not believe what news I have heard from Capua!"

"Good day, Rufina," Aeliana answered.

Rufina kissed Aeliana's cheek and offered Will her hand. He begrudgingly kissed it.

"Please, sit," Rufina said, "I have much to say."

Aeliana sat with her hostess, but Will remained standing, observing his surroundings.

"Spartacus and his band of rebels... oh gods, you won't even believe it."

"Spartacus?" Will asked.

"Yes, the Thracian gladiator," Rufina responded. He didn't register recognition.

"Honestly, Will, I understand you don't keep up on popular culture but surely you have heard mention of the rebel Spartacus and his attacks on Roman nobility?"

Will looked at Aeliana.

"Spartacus, along with other gladiators and slaves owned by the lanista Batiatus in Capua, revolted and slaughtered everyone in the household, save for his wife," Aeliana informed him.

"She barely survived," Rufina said mournfully. "And now the treacherous slaves have formed a small army and have set to slaughtering anyone they see fit."

"And what news from Capua? The revolt took place quite some time ago."

"The rebels returned!" she said, glancing back and forth, visibly excited that she was the first to inform her peers of the horrible events. "They destroyed the arena in Capua and slaughtered even more noble Romans!"

"In the city?" Aeliana was alarmed. "I knew that they were attacking villas in the countryside..." she stopped when she noticed Will looked concerned.

"Oh yes," Rufina said. "They have grown very bold. Luckily, we are safe in Rome."

Aeliana cleared her throat.

"Oh, Will!" Rufina exclaimed. "You must increase your security if you wish to continue living outside of Rome's protection."

Will was deep in thought, and Rufina turned her attention back to Aeliana.

"Fear and panic has become so ubiquitous that some slave-holders are threatening to publicly stone or even crucify any of their slaves who show interest in Spartacus, or even mention his name!"

"An appalling practice," Aeliana muttered.

Rufina shrugged.

"Our security within the city walls has kept us from resorting to such practices," she said.

"And if you were outside of the walls?" Will asked, shaking his head.

"Perhaps we would be forced to be more severe," Rufina answered. She tried to look at Will's eyes, but he didn't allow it. "And how do you intend to protect yourself and your household?"

Will gazed at Aeliana. He wanted her to know that if she was to live with him, she would be safe and happy. He would give her whatever her heart desired.

"I will bring in paid security," he said. "Not slaves. Trained and educated free men who will fight with loyalty."

"Those without slaves have nothing to worry," she added.

Will wondered if he could do without slaves, if he could handle the cost of paid workers tending to his expansive land and crops. For Aeliana's respect, pleasure, and security, he believed he could. But that would mean forgoing gladiators. It would remove any possibility of having Hannibal in his possession.

"I came to let your father know that I spoke to Fredo," he told Rufina. "Thank him for me, for allowing me to take over his investment."

When Aeliana and Will returned to his carriage, they were silent until a soft rain began to fall. Will leaned over to shut Aeliana's window for her first, and as he brushed up against her she put a hand on his chest. He looked at her, those gentle eyes searching his. He wasn't sure what to do, but he felt her desire pulling him. He sat down again, closer to her and she moved her hand up to his neck and began to rub. It felt very nice, and he closed his eyes. He opened them again when he felt her lips touch his. They were moist and soft, and he was pulled into her embrace. When she stopped he whispered, "Aeliana..."

"I have been wanting to do that since that day, after the arena," she said.

He smiled at her shyly, and the carriage stopped at her home.

"Can I meet with you again?" he asked.

"Please do."

"Aeliana," he continued, as he helped her descend from the carriage, "I would like to court you, if you are interested."

She laughed at him and he felt a shock of embarrassment.

"Oh," she said quickly, putting her hand on him again. "I only laugh because I thought it was obvious how interested I am."

He was relieved, and kissed her hand farewell. She kissed him again on the mouth, in front of her father's domus.

"I look forward to it," she said, and went inside.

 

In the weeks that passed, Will and Aeliana grew closer. She had visited his home on multiple occasions and they toured his gardens and spoke of academia and philosophy. He longed to ask her the questions for which he most needed answers: if she was interested in marriage and children and living with him on his plantation, and if he could count on her to help him build the life that he knew his father would be proud of. In exchange, she would dwell in the lap of luxury, treated with kindness and respect, and be given immense freedom to speak as she pleased and invest in her own interests. He did not know how to express these ideas in a way that could be called romantic or enticing, for to him it seemed like more of an arrangement.

Marcus seemed pleased to see that Will was calling on his daughter regularly, and he knew it would be no trouble at all to ask for the man's blessing to their marriage. The only difficulty was the matter of the arena. His thoughts were constantly turning to Hannibal and how badly he wished to see the man fight again. He knew that Aeliana didn't approve of the games, and seemed to think that Will didn't care for them either since the incident that occurred the last time they visited the arena with Rufina. For now, if he wanted to watch the fighting, he would have to keep it a secret from his chosen partner.

The vilicus, Octavio, was an older gentleman slave, who had served the Senator Capanna for many years, and now continued to serve young master Will. He found his duties in the domestic realm extremely diminished due to Will's introverted nature, but they grew in regards to his functions as a mouthpiece and courier. Answering for Will and running errands had given him a bit more status outside of the villa, as he was no longer confined to the property, but ventured out as a high-standing _familia urbana_. He had helped raise Will from boyhood, and oversaw the minor aspects of his education that did not involve his father. Between that, and the fact that Will gave him freedom most slaves could not aspire to, Octavio had reason to be fiercely loyal.

Upon hearing that Spartacus and his rebels were ransacking plantations and slaughtering the domini of the households, he shuddered with anxiety for the safety of his own master. The villa was largely unprotected, with only a few guard posts and overseers to warn of intruders. Nothing that could put up a fight against a small army led by gladiators. He hadn't spoken to Will about his fears as of yet. The rebels were last spotted far off and heading in another direction. However, he was keeping an ear open to the word on the street regarding their location and any information about who they had attacked. It seemed to get worse and worse. Whispers of a new, independent revolt within Rome, inspired by Spartacus caused him to worry now that Will was spending time away from the villa in the company of Aeliana. When Will came to him to ask about hiring mercenaries to guard the plantation and household, Octavio was noticeably relieved.

"I agree that that may be necessary, Dominus," he said. "Your slaves show no signs of disloyalty to you, but they are not fighters and they may find themselves forced to choose between surrendering to rebels and forfeiting their lives. Mercenaries do not have that choice to make."

"Would they need to be trained?"

"They are generally soldiers with fighting experience," Octavio answered, "But I have heard that merely a handful of Spartacus' men successfully massacred many citizens of Capua, despite security being present. Other villas under attack were guarded by mercenaries and even official guard in the case of Senatorial members, but they were dispatched of quite quickly. It may be wise to find a trainer and make-shift a barracks on the grounds."

Will thanked Octavio for his advice. Perhaps he could find a place for Hannibal after all. But that would require Fredo Ligare to give up his ownership to Will, something he wasn't sure would be possible. In the meantime, his desire to see the man again was gnawing at him. He knew that if he were to bring him into his household that he would have to explain his presence to Aeliana eventually.

"There is a gladiator," he told her one evening as they dined in his villa, "owned by Fredo, who is intelligent and educated. I have spoken with him in Fredo's ludus and I feel the urge to rescue him from his unfortunate life."

Aeliana was pleased and touched by her beau's compassion.

"You would purchase him?"

"I would. And perhaps I could use his skill as a fighter to train the guards on my property. It would be a more peaceful and rewarding life for a deserving man."

"Who is this gladiator?" she asked. Will hesitated.

"Do you remember the fighter we saw the first time we attended the arena? The one who... who ate a part of his opponent?"

Aeliana's mouth dropped.

"The cannibal?!"

"It is a theatrical gimmick, I assure you," Will said. "He is forced to perform, and his well-being depends on such sensationalism and gore. Again, I say, I spoke with the man in person and he was quite different from the persona he projects in the arena."

Aeliana shook her head, and Will continued.

"I can't tell you how much it would mean to me, to give him a position that rewards his truer self, so he doesn't have to be debased in such a fashion."

She kissed him, and lay her head on his chest, rubbing his stomach with her hand. He sighed.

"You are a kind man, Will. I believe you see the good in people, and understand them. Perhaps to a fault, but I would have you follow your impulses to be so kind."

He pet her soft dark hair and kissed the top of her head. He wondered if she was right about seeing the good in people. It didn't feel quite true, as he often felt he could see the darker aspects of them as well, beneath the pomp and etiquette that they projected. Hannibal was perhaps the opposite of them. Monstrous and violent on the exterior, but with a thoughtful soul beneath. But which aspect was he most attracted to?

The amphitheater was relatively under-populated the next time Will visited. When Rufina noticed him and waved, his heart sank. What if she told Aeliana that he was there?

"Good day, Rufina," he said gruffly, and was forced to kiss her hand again.

"You do realize that Hannibal the Cannibal fights in the primus today?" she said amusedly. "Are you sure you have the stomach for it this time?"

"I would rather not be here, to be honest," he lied. "But I have invested with Ligare and he has asked for me to visit."

"Poor Fredo," she said, "his business is not doing well as of late."

She looked at him with a self-satisfied glint in her eyes.

"I hope your investment doesn't suffer for it."

"What do you mean?"  
"Surely you notice that the seats are far from filled today," she said, gesturing at the meager crowd. "It is because of the massacre in Capua. People are simply not in the gaming spirit just yet."

"Well, as you said before, we are within the security of Rome's walls. I'm sure the crowds will return in no time."

"For your sake, I hope you're right, dear Will."

"Excuse me, I must find Fredo," he said.

"Well, if you should feel nauseated, be sure to aim toward the edge of the balcony, rather than on it."

Will spotted Fredo sitting in his seat near the announcer and editor, in the most prominent balcony. He approached, and Fredo gladly offered him a place next to him.

"So good to see you, Magister Capanna," he said. "Your favorite champion has the primus again."

"It is why I am here," Will replied.

Fredo chatted throughout all of the minor games, pointing out which gladiators were his and mentioning all of the flaws he noticed in his competitors' gladiators. It was perhaps a bit rude, but Will found it informative for only his second time watching the games. When the primus was announced, however, Fredo was perfectly silent.

Hannibal entered the open field to the sound of cheers and jeers. Will inadvertently stood up, and thought he saw Hannibal's face turn toward him. Perhaps he was just waving to the crowd in general, but he liked to believe that he saw him up there, and acknowledged him. He sat down again when the fighting commenced.

As Hannibal sparred with a gladiator named Jael, who the announcer claimed came from the jungles of Africa, Will took note of his style. He realized that Hannibal's words about engaging one's opponent to lull them into the illusion of predictability were put to use. The fighting style Hannibal used on Khalif was completely different than what he was using now. Both mirrored his opponent’s style perfectly, making them seem matched. He could see now that it was a trick, and he smiled.

"How does he do it?" he murmured.

Fredo looked at him and nodded knowingly.

Will barely looked at Hannibal's adversary, a tall, lean man with mahogany skin and nimble movements. His eyes were fixed on his gladiator. Fredo Ligare no longer owned Hannibal, in his mind. He was his.

The movements of his body were impeccable. Like a human cobra, he darted back and forth, his reflexes almost preternatural. Will began to feel himself swell again as he admired the man and imagined having the honor of rewarding Hannibal for his victory. Walking into the ludus, where Hannibal bathed himself of the blood and wrapped and treated his wounds. Allowing him to take him, as though Will was the slave and Hannibal the dominus.

He quickly shook the vision away from behind his eyes, so he could focus on the fight below. He noticed that Jael was beginning to accept the cadence of the fight as a given, and was allowing himself to meet needs for extra breath and adjusted footing between the beats.

"It won't be long now," Will whispered. He could hear Fredo chuckle.

Only a moment after he had said that, Jael shifted his weight to one side, loosening the weary grip on his weapon for but a second. Hannibal stepped in the opposite direction at startling speed and sliced the very tip of his blade across his opponent's throat. It was more of a nick, actually, the movement like the darting of a serpent's tongue. It seemed so light, so shallow, but it was all it took for the man's artery to open and his blood to empty out onto his collar and chest. He stared at Hannibal in shock, as if he still couldn't comprehend what had just happened. The blood loss was quick, and he dropped to his knees. He was unconscious before the editor could even give his ruling.

"Merciful," Fredo spoke his first words since Hannibal took to the sands. "A sign of respect for a worthy fighter."

The editor could see that Jael was as good as dead, but the ruling meant more to the audience when Hannibal was involved. He gave him the thumbs down and the crowd, although not as abundant as last time, created an impressive roar and chanted for the cannibal to eat.

Will swallowed and prepared himself for the show. He refused to be squeamish again.

Hannibal knelt beside his foe that had fallen on his stomach. He cut into Jael's lower back and removed a dark red kidney. It was too much. Will looked away as Hannibal devoured it and his audience showed their adoration. Fredo stood and applauded, and Will joined him in time to see the Hannibal stand with his mouth stained red, still chewing. Then he looked in Will's direction, and this time Will was certain of it. The cannibal gladiator lifted a bloody hand to his mouth, kissed it, and pointed it toward Will's balcony.

As the two men exited, Fredo turned to Will and asked, "Would you like to return to my villa and observe my ludus, now that it is daylight?"

Will agreed and instructed his driver to return home while he accompanied Fredo in his carriage.

"Ah, but we should eat first. Watching Hannibal fight always rustles up the appetite," the lanista remarked.

Will was reminded of Rufina's own comment and he wondered at how Hannibal's theatrical gimmick reflected the audience he clearly knew so well.

At dinner, Will mostly listened as Fredo explained how he chose his slaves, how he culled them, and when he and the doctore could tell they were ready for battle. Will wondered about the rebellion in Capua, and how Fredo could be so relaxed in his villa next to the ludus, after such a terrifying incident. The man led him out to the yard and several gladiators were training while Ren observed and called out orders and critiques.

"Where is Hannibal?" Will asked.

"He is probably in his cell, having been washed, resting and enjoying the fruits of his labor. I allow my champions reasonable requests after winning a battle. Some request lovely slave-girls to visit them. Hannibal asks for fine food and wine."

Ren saw Fredo approaching and bowed. Fredo waved at him to continue as he was doing.

"I have the best doctore in all of Rome," he said proudly. "The man is a legend. Ragged barbarians, prisoners, and scrapping boys enter this ludus, champions of the arena emerge."

"A shame he must retire," Will said.

"Yes, it is," Fredo agreed, "but all good men must rest eventually."

"And Hannibal should take his place?"

"Ah..." Fredo remarked, "That statement may have been premature."

"What do you mean?" Will asked.

"I spoke with Ren about his replacement. He urged me to reconsider a veteran instead of Hannibal, one who has been here for years and proven his loyalty. He also will be too old to fight in the coming years, but not too old to be doctore, so I will not have to lose an active gladiator."

"But once a doctore is instated, would they not be in the position indefinitely?"

"Yes," Fredo replied. "But Hannibal will always be one of my most prized gladiators."

Will tried to hide his agitation.

"It is shame for a man of Hannibal's intellect and experience to fight for entertainment for the rest of his life."

"Ah, but he seems to enjoy it."

Will turned to Fredo and stopped him.

"I am interested in improving the security on my plantation, due to the rebel uprising brought on by Spartacus."

Fredo bristled at the name and looked around anxiously.

"I need a doctore to train the new soldiers, so that they are ready for anything."

"It is a good plan," Fredo replied.

"I would like to purchase Hannibal."

"Eh..." Fredo sighed, "I'm afraid he isn't for sale."

He began to walk around the training grounds, observing his slaves. Will followed after him.

"Name your price. Please, I can't see him go to waste."

"He is not wasted!" Fredo insisted. "He's a fucking champion!"

"I mean," Will was frustrated by having to hurry after the man. "Please, I mean what I say. I will pay you enough to buy three champions!"

"You do not understand," Fredo replied. "Hannibal is a crowd-pleaser. People know him by name and come to the arena specifically to see him. I cannot replace that. Even if I were to train more slaves who were as talented as he, which is unlikely, they wouldn't have the name attached to them that Hannibal the Cannibal does. My stable couldn't bounce back from it. I'm sorry, he isn't for sale."

Will looked over at the window to Hannibal's cell. He could see the silhouette of the man from inside, sitting on his bed and staring straight ahead. He remembered Fredo's words from weeks ago. _"Always listening, that one."_

Despite his disappointment over Fredo's refusal to part with Hannibal, Will asked Octavio to recruit mercenaries from Rome and oversee the refurbishment of one of the guest villas into a barracks. Soldiers of mediocre skill were better than no guard at all. Part of Will still held out hope that Fredo would reconsider his offer. He paid attention to when Hannibal would fight again and waited impatiently for the chance to watch the man that he, despite all reason, considered his own personal gladiator. Only days before he was to attend the arena once more, he was lounging quietly with Aeliana out in the garden and staring at the chestnut tree, when Octavio came back from his trip to Rome claiming dreadful news.

"Dominus, I regret to inform you that your patronage, Fredo Ligare, has been assaulted and is gravely wounded by one of his own slaves."

Will was startled. Had a new rebellion begun in Rome?

"How? What happened?" Aeliana asked.

"The doctore of his ludus," Octavio answered. "He entered his villa while Fredo slept and attempted to gut him. Thankfully, a comfort slave was unnoticed in the room and screamed for help."

"Doctore Ren?" Will jumped to his feet. "I can't believe it. I can't."

"According to rumor, his quarters were searched and propaganda in favor of Spartacus and his rebellion were found hidden there."

"What has happened to the doctore?"

"He was tortured, I am afraid, so that he would confess where he received the propaganda and who encouraged him in his treachery. He finally spoke the name of a gladiator and was put to rest."

"Which gladiator?" Will's mouth grew dry and his throat tightened.

"Hannibal," Octavio answered, and Will heard Aeliana gasp. "They call him Hannibal the Cannibal. Quite the beast, I'm told..."

Will dashed out of the villa before Octavio could finish his sentence, and Aeliana followed him.

"Will!" she called, "Have wisdom!"

He did not stop, and so she climbed into the carriage with him.

They arrived at the House of Ligare and, circumventing the villa, he ran straight into the yard where he could see a cross erected and a man nailed upon it. Guards called after them, but seeing their upper-class clothing, they stopped when Aeliana spoke to them and explained why they were there. Will didn't pause. As he came closer, he noticed that the man on the cross was Ren, mutilated and dead. In the yard before him, gladiators and trainees sat upon the sand, mourning the loss of their doctore.

"Where is Hannibal?" he called to them.

"They took him away two days ago," one man answered. "We do not know where."

The guards and Aeliana approached and she cried out at the sight of the bloody crucifixion, and turned her back to it.

"I need to see Fredo," Will commanded the guards.  
"He is recuperating in his bed," they heard a voice call out. The House Ligare vilicus was exiting the doorway. "He will pull through, although he is very shaken by these events, as I'm sure you can understand."

"I need to find out what he has done with..."

Aeliana interrupted him quickly.

"Apologies for the intrusion," she said. "We are desperate to speak to our dear friend. We must see for ourselves that he is well."

As the vilicus nodded and led them inside, Will took Aeliana's hand and whispered his thanks to her. _This is why I need you_ , he thought.

"Allow me to speak, my love," she replied, and he nodded in agreement.

The villa was dimly-lit when they made their way back to Fredo's private quarters. The muffled sounds of slaves sobbing could be heard from other rooms.

"The doctore was well-loved," their escort explained in a whisper. No one can believe that it has come to this. That he would betray his household and dominus so completely."

Fredo was propped up on pillows in his bed. He smiled weakly when his guests entered.

"Will Capanna," he said, "and who is this lovely woman?"

"This is Aeliana Flos," Will replied. "She is a good friend of mine."

"Magister Ligare," she greeted him. "I am so terribly sorry to hear of your grave misfortune. Please accept our condolences."

"It is a most diabolical thing," Fredo coughed. "Ren, my most trusted slave, a man I intended to give _libertas_ , making attempt on my life!"

"Why would he do such a thing?" Aeliana asked.

"When he stabbed me, as my comfort slave screamed, I heard him ask me repeatedly where his children were. He knew where they were! I had told him previously that they were at a _villa rustica_ , and I swore by the gods, I swear to you now, that is where they are!"

He began to shake and coughed into a handkerchief. Aeliana put her hand on his shoulder.

"What madness made him believe otherwise?" Fredo asked. "I have never once lied to him. Never..."

Will didn't approach Fredo, but stood against the wall, next to the vilicus.

"You believe that he was influenced?" Aeliana asked.

"My captain of the guard informed me that he tortured him," tears filled Fredo's eyes. "Near the end, before they gave him mercy, he called out the name of Hannibal. Betrayal upon betrayal."

Fredo looked over at Will.

"Did you not think that he was under duress?" He snapped. "That he chose any name to avoid further torment?"

"That is what Hannibal claimed, when he was brought before me. Having no proof, I spared his life, but I could not risk keeping him here any longer."

"What have you done with him?"

"I had the overseer sell him to the pit. He can do no harm there."

Will looked at the vilicus questioningly.

"An underground fighting ring," the slave informed him, "for petty gamblers, _sine missione_. It is a constant stream of fights to the death until the slaves there are defeated or collapse from fatigue. It is where dishonored gladiators go to die."

Will was fuming.

"A loyal gladiator, a champion of the arena, to go from being a contender for doctore status to being thrown into a hellish drawn-out death sentence, because of the words of a desperate traitor?"

Fredo was shocked that Will questioned his decision.

"How dare you! Any other lanista would have had him crucified next to his doctore for such an implication!"

"Forgive him, Fredo," Aeliana said. "He is surprised by these events as well."

"Surprised?" Fredo spat. "I lie here nearly dead due to treachery and rebellion and I am criticized for showing an ounce of mercy to the slave who may very well have played a part in it!"

Will left the room and paced in the hall.

"Hannibal is the only other gladiator of mine, aside from Ren, who can even read. Ren never left the villa, Hannibal did. Who else would have provided him with such propaganda? The accusation has merit. I cannot prove it, but I feel the stab of Hannibal's blade in my gut just as keenly as Ren's."

"Please," Aeliana said softly, trying to calm him down. "We will attempt to find the source of this treachery, be it Hannibal or any other. We are on your side."

Aeliana heard Will's footsteps receding down the hall.

"Be well, Fredo," she said, and patted his hand. "Rest and we will call on you in the future."

Fredo closed his eyes and Aeliana rushed to catch up with Will. The vilicus followed them out.

"Do you know where this pit is?" Will asked him.

"In the plebian district, near the bathhouse there," he answered.

"Aeliana," Will said, taking her hands, "I should go alone."

He addressed the vilicus, "Will you see to it that she is returned to her domus?"

"Perhaps you should send for Octavio," Aeliana encouraged. "It is dangerous for you to go to such a place."

"There is no time," he answered, and climbed into his carriage.

The pit was exactly as the vilicus described: a place of weariness, dishonor, and death. He was surprised to see the occasional high-born gambler squeezed in amidst the plebs, shrieking at the filthy spectacle before them. He asked the editor, if one could even give the slovenly overseer such a title, for Hannibal. He gestured to a crowded cell off to one side of the gory center pit. Inside, against the wall, covered in blood and mud and untreated cuts, sat Hannibal with his knees pulled up to his chest.

"Hannibal!" Will called out amidst the din of his surroundings.

Upon hearing his name, Hannibal looked up to see Will pushing his way through the spectators toward his cage. He didn't even climb to his feet, just stared back at him with an expression of disbelief.

"Open the door!" Will commanded the guard.

"You want to remove a pit-dog, you have to pay for him," the gruff man answered.

Will tossed him a purse of coins without even bothering to haggle. The guard was astonished, and quickly opened the cell. Hannibal tried to rise, but was slowed by weakness. Will helped him to his feet and supported him as he led him out of the pit.

 On the ride home, Will did not speak to Hannibal, as the once proud gladiator could barely keep his eyes open. Before long, he had dozed off with his head against the door of the carriage.

 

Back at the villa, Will ordered that Hannibal be washed and his wounds treated. He stood outside the door to the bath, pacing. Finally, he opened the door and looked inside. Hannibal was standing up to his hips in water, accompanied by two handmaidens who washed him carefully. Will instructed them to leave.

"Dominus," Hannibal said softly, and bowed with a slight wince.

Goosebumps scattered up Will's arms. The title spoken toward him, in Hannibal's voice, was tremendously exciting.

"Fredo makes damning accusations toward you," he said. He came closer to Hannibal, staring at the man's body. He walked up beside him and looked him over. Cuts and bruises covered his arms, chest, and stomach, but he was no less exquisite.

Hannibal looked up at him with a plaintive expression that struck Will's heart.

"Gracious Dominus," he said, "Doctore Ren found my name on his lips in his moment of greatest pain, believed it would spare him further agony, and it did. For that, I am grateful, but I swear to you on the old gods of my people and every Roman god who will hear me now, I did not betray my master. Nor would I ever."

At that last statement, he locked eyes with Will and spoke intently, as if to make that a promise to his new dominus.

"I believe you," Will replied. "For now, you will be washed, dressed, and given a place to bed within the villa."

Hannibal picked up the cloth that one of the handmaidens had left behind and began to run it over his own body.

Will removed the outer layers of his finery, the lacerna, and his belt, leaving only the short open-sided tunic. Hannibal watched him as he laid them on the couch and waded into the bath with him. He took the cloth from Hannibal and began to gently wash his back. A thoughtful, examining look came over Hannibal's face.

"Were you interested in becoming the doctore of the Ligare ludus?" Will asked. His tunic from the waist down floated in the bathwater and the string that tied it closed at the waist was loose, pulling open the sides. Hannibal's breath grew deeper, and his nostrils flared momentarily as he glanced over the young man.

"I was," Hannibal answered. "It would have been a great comfort to me to cease fighting and pass on my knowledge to others."

Will smiled.

"I want to install a barracks on my property," he explained. "I need someone to train the guards to better secure my home from marauders."

"Dominus," Hannibal answered. Will was beginning to press up against him as he held up the gladiator's arm and washed along the side of his chest and stomach.

"You would be my doctore," Will continued. He studied Hannibal's face, noticed a spatter of blood beside his ear, and washed it with the cloth.

"Thank you, Dominus," Hannibal whispered. "I will rise to the task."

Will lowered the cloth to the water and let it sink. He stared at Hannibal for a moment and began to lean in.

Hannibal stiffened and turned to face him directly.

"Am I to... provide comfort to you as well?" he asked in a stern tone.

Heat spread over Will's face and he pulled back.

"Ah... no, I..." he felt embarrassed.

"Whatever you wish, Dominus," Hannibal answered, nodding.

"I just..." Will wanted to leave the room in an instant, and hide from his shame over being so physical with a slave, who had no say in the matter. "You do not have to do anything in that regard, that you do not feel inclined... I mean..."

He stammered and covered his face, stepping away from Hannibal. Then he felt hands on his arms, pulling them down. Hannibal had come closer to him, and was looking at him with a tiny smirk.

"But you want me... to feel so inclined," he said.

Will couldn't respond, he just watched the man's eyes as they wandered over his scantily-clad body. Hannibal reached down and untied the thin sash that held Will's tunic together. His rough hands fumbled through the openings on either side and pulled him by his naked hips into his embrace. Will closed his eyes and held still while Hannibal pressed his lips against his chest, his collar, and then his neck with just a brush of his teeth against his jugular. At the sensation of Hannibal's soft bite, Will's eyes snapped open and he felt as though his body was melting into sea-foam atop the water. He put his hands on the back of Hannibal's head and pulled on him, inviting him to bite harder. He did, and Will moaned. The sound of his moan caused Hannibal to release a quiet chuckle and he put his hands at the back of Will's legs and lifted him up, carrying him to the step into the bath and setting him down there. Will leaned back and stared up at his gladiator with a pleading expression, and Hannibal did not break eye contact with him as he pulled aside Will's wet tunic and moved his hands between his legs. Will felt a strange weakness in his body, particularly in his arms, as Hannibal maneuvered him into position. He pulled Will's arms above his head and pushed him onto the tiles, his body bent in a strained arch over the edge of the bath. He released him, but Will did not move from his position as Hannibal stripped him of his tunic and began to nibble and kiss him all over his chest and stomach, nipples, ribs, belly button, hip bones... Will arched his back even more and clutched his own hair and throat, staring at Hannibal as he made his way down his torso and between his legs. The bites stung and left small red marks all over him. Each one made him shiver and gasp. Each one made his body more sensitive and apprehensive.

Hannibal stood over Will and put a hand on his neck and opened Will's legs with the other. He examined his dominus' face as he moved his fingers over Will's cock, massaging him as he clutched his throat. Will's mouth trembled, opening wider. The expression on Hannibal's face, somewhat stoic, but knowing and domineering, thrilled him. Hannibal’s fingers moved downward and began to probe him gently. Will whimpered and began to clutch at the arm that Hannibal held him down by the throat with. He grasped onto it tightly when Hannibal began to work his fingers inside of him. Will lifted his knees in the water, spreading his legs further apart. A smile spread across Hannibal's face and he brought his hand to Will's, placing his fingers over the young man's open mouth. Will, still holding Hannibal's arm, kissed his fingers and began to suck them. Hannibal maneuvered Will's feet up onto the step into the bath, opening him up even further and now took his right hand to his own cock and guided it inside of him. Will moaned and kissed Hannibal's hand and fingers faster, more fervently. He gazed upward, watching the strangely sly smile hover over him, as Hannibal slowly pushed in further.

"Ohhh," Will groaned. And Hannibal began to fuck him, at a maddeningly slow pace. His head lolled from side to side on the tiles, and Hannibal gently lifted him, placed a hand under the back of his head, and then lifted himself and Will's hips up out of the water. He thrust in and out of him, faster now, pushing the young man backward a bit on the tile. Hannibal began to grunt in a deep breathy sound, his lips snarling a bit.

"Please," Will whispered. "I need this. I need this so badly."

At that cue, Hannibal lifted Will's hips again, above the edge of the bath and he placed his own knees on the step. He brought Will's legs up, and pushed his weight down upon him, thrusting deep within him. Will's head was still cradled in Hannibal's left hand and now he reached out to put his own hands into Hannibal's shaggy golden brown hair. It felt soft as he pulled it lightly, coaxing him to bring his face closer to him. With his right hand, Hannibal began to fondle Will. His lip curled, baring his teeth a bit as he fucked him faster, harder.

Will's eyes began to water and he whimpered as he strained into Hannibal's movements.

"Please," he moaned, not even knowing what he was asking for but repeating the word over and over, "please, please..."

A swelling, aching sensation grew in his belly as Hannibal thrust into him. He stroked the young man's cock faster, and Will moved his hips, unable to get enough.

"Ohhh, please..." his voice was growing desperate and hoarse. He licked and bit his lower lip, and Hannibal suddenly dipped down and kissed him hard on the mouth. While he kissed him, he moved his hand in a firm rotating motion and aimed his thrusting upward. Will's eyes widened and the sensation seemed to split open and pour out like a hot liquid that spread throughout his entire body. He came all over his belly, and the thrusting motion against the front wall inside of him kept him in spasms and moaning into Hannibal's kiss. Hannibal didn't stop, and the shivering, twitching ache was unbearable. Then he felt the warmth of Hannibal's cum inside of him, and they both relaxed. Hannibal pulled back and kissed him again.

Will was trembling and wet on the tiles of the floor, when Hannibal climbed out of the bath and lie down next to him, pressing his lips against his shoulder and holding him close. He was murmuring something in a language that Will had never heard before, guttural with soft syllables. He looked over at him curiously.

Hannibal smiled up at Will, kissed his shoulder, and nuzzled him.

"My life for you, my Dominus," he said.


End file.
